The Weasley Way
by hpkiwi
Summary: A collection of ten 'missing moments' between Ron and Ginny as both their characters mature from temperamental young teenagers into battle-worn young adults beginning to settle down after the war. See some of the important events mentioned in passing from the later novels through the eyes of the two youngest Weasley siblings. Reclassified from 'Humor' to 'Drama.'
1. Hormones, Yule Balls and Pranks

_A/N: This is the first chapter of a story feturing ten 'missing moments' in the relationship between Ron and Ginny, beginning in Prisoner of Azkaban and extending well into adulthood. This first chapter is more lighthearted, but expect the next chapters to have more sombre, heartfelt moments included. While there is quite a bit of Harry and Hermione in this first chapter, there will be more of a focus on the two siblings going forwards. Enjoy!_

 _1:_

Ron breathed a sigh of relief as he entered the toasty interior of the Entrance Hall. He looked to his right and saw that a seriously pink-faced Hermione, removing some of her multiple layers, had clearly felt the cold as much as he did.

Zonko's Joke Shop, The Three Broomsticks, Dervish and Banges…it had been enormous fun. Not for the first time that day, he did his best to feel more guilty for enjoying himself so much without Harry. Buying some steaming hot Butterbeers with Hermione, her friendly scolding of his sweet purchases at Honeydukes, her rabbiting on for thirty whole minutes about the Shrieking Shack's history, and thirty more about the history of the Wizarding Wireless Network's Hogsmeade headquarters had been fun.

Then again, he _had_ been rather too busy stuffing his face full of sweets to really digest her lecture, but still….it _had_ been nice. Just the pair of them, letting concerns about Sirius Black slip to the back of their minds for a few hours.

Perhaps the oddest sight of all had been the sight of a giant, rather shaggy black dog that was carrying a newspaper between its teeth and heading off into the forest near the Shrieking Shack with, if it was possible, a mournful expression on its face as it stared at the decaying wreck. He'd asked Hermione about it, and of his concerns about the Grim, but she'd snapped back that he was being illogical and silly – _dogs didn't exhibit that sort of behaviour._

As they neared the Second Floor Corridor, Hermione put up a hand to her forehead and exclaimed she'd left her Arithmancy work in the Library. Ron followed, complaining bitterly under his breath about Hermione being wedded to her essays.

As Hermione traipsed off to find her unfinished work, muttering feverishly, he heard a whistle from behind a shelf.

Frowning, he whipped around the corner to find an all-too smug Ginny, her quill raised above her homework.

"What?" he snapped, far too loudly.

"Nothing," Ginny replied with a grin that Ron knew only meant trouble. "Enjoying yourselves, are we?"

Ron scowled back at her. "Yeah, I guess. We had a great time in Hogsmeade." When her smirk widened, he knew he'd said precisely the wrong thing. But why his sister was being so insufferable all of a sudden, he didn't know. It was almost as bad as Fred and George wolf-whistling at him as he walked out with Hermione into the biting cold. They needed to grow up, he thought savagely. What was wrong about two friends heading off to Hogsmeade together?

"Excellent," said Ginny slowly, nodding her head in acquiescence. "Looks like you had _a very good time_ , if you know what I mean."

The tip of Ron's ears went red.

"No, I don't, so why don't you tell me, and cut the cr-"

"Isn't it obvious?" Ginny replied exasperatedly, though the effect was ruined by her upturned lips. Ron didn't have the foggiest what she was on about.

"No, I don't," he shot back heatedly. "Harry couldn't come, so that was why it was just the two of…" A thought hit him. "Hang on, what are _you_ doing here then? Hoping to see Harry?"

The smirk vanished from his sister's face in nearly an instant as she knocked over the ink bottle in her hurry to stand up and point a finger in Ron's face.

"Don't ever, ever mention that in public," she hissed. "Besides, where's your proof? I definitely hope you picked up some of those singing socks from Gladrags. Given the way your feet and room smell worse than a sewer troll." She stuck her tongue at him. That was better, Ron thought. He could deal with that sort of sibling teasing. Indeed, he relished the idea of a good sibling squabble.

"Oh, bugger off…."

"Ron?" Hermione had emerged from behind the shelving with an absurdly large bookmarked tome underneath her arm. "Time to go. See you later, Ginny!"

"Bye, Hermione." Ron recognised a note of smugness reappearing in his sister's voice. He took one more look at Ginny, whose face was filled with a mixture of triumphant superiority, wry amusement and irritation, nodded and moved off. The heating in the Library really was savage at times, he mused, as he felt his cheeks begin to flush from the heat. Behind him, he heard a call from Ginny.

"We've both been to Egypt, Ron. I know what denial looks like."

Hermione yanked him along before he could swear loudly in reply.

Yes, he mused, Ginny was his favourite sibling, except for maybe Bill. But that didn't mean that there weren't times where he wanted to hex her face clean off.

 _2:_

Ginny sat silently in her seat, playing morosely with her stew. It wasn't possible.

She could have gone to the ball with Harry. _The_ Harry Potter.

She immediately shut down the poisonous train of thought her mind was heading in. Neville, although decidedly on the clumsy side, was perfectly polite, and decent. Unlike her pigheaded brother, who, she was pleased to see, had formed a comical 'o' shape with his mouth when she'd told him she'd been invited by Neville.

Still, Ginny mused, Neville was hardly Heroic Harry. She felt a sudden surge of bad will for Cho Chang, an emotion that more often than not had been associated in her mind with being possessed by Tom.

Except it wasn't the most evil wizard that was occupying her mind now. Quite the opposite in fact. And the fact that Harry was now showing more than a passing interest in the opposite sex, with a girl that was most distinctly not herself, was hardly helping her mood.

Feeling thoroughly queasy, she left her half-finished stew and headed for bed.

She'd never communicated much with her fellow Third Year dorm mates – the events of two years previously had put paid to that – and so as she prepared for bed, not caring that she was the only one in her cohort doing so, she jumped when a knock came from the door of her dormitory.

"Come in," she called out.

Hermione entered, giving Ginny a warm smile that was far removed from the exasperated fury that had been directed at Ron not so long beforehand.

"Hi Hermione," she replied in a voice that was far too high-pitched for her liking. "Sit down, won't you?" she added, gesturing to the nearest empty bed as she pulled on her dressing gown. Hermione nodded in gratitude, and shot her a piercing glance that made Ginny look away at the wall facing the foot of her bed. Sympathy was not what she needed or deserved. She'd been asked out by a boy, albeit only as a Yule Ball date, and she was acting in a thoroughly pigheaded manner over a silly little girl's crush.

"Ginny, look at me."

Hermione's voice knocked her out of her reverie. Ginny turned to see Hermione nodding in satisfaction.

"First," Hermione began, "I just wanted to say that you behaved really maturely back there."

This was not what Ginny had expected to hear. "What do you mean?" she replied sharply, nonplussed.

Hermione dropped a hand on her shoulder. " About the Yule Ball," she said gently. "Going with Neville, and sticking with him, regardless of your other…. _interests_."

"Could say the same for you," Ginny chuckled quietly, relief and appreciation flowing through her. Much to her satisfaction, she saw Hermione bite her lip, look at her shoes, blink rapidly and turn scarlet in a handful of seconds. "No idea what you mean," the older girl replied primly with as much dignity as she could. She turned back to Ginny. "Now then. About Harry…"

Ginny's stomach went into freefall again. Her infatuation with The Boy Who Lived was surely going to see her locked up in St. Mungo's before long.

Okay, so he had saved her life, had amazing eyes, was almost infuriatingly polite, generous and about a thousand other traits, but that wasn't the point….

"You said you wanted a discussion, didn't you?" said Hermione, giving Ginny another sharp glance that gave her the feeling of being x-rayed.

"I did," sighed Ginny, succumbing to the inevitable. "It just won't go away, Hermione, and I'm terrified I'll do something stupid, like trip up Neville while dancing because I'm looking elsewhere, or I'll stick my arm I another bloody dish when we're eating or, or…."

"You won't," said Hermione with a firm finality. "I've told you before, Ginny, it's a natural thing to fancy someone for ages when growing through this stage of puberty…" she trailed off, pink patches flaring in her cheeks again as she appeared to consider the ramifications of her comment. Ginny smiled thinly, but it was wiped from her face as another worry rose to the surface.

"But what if…what if I don't grow out of it?" Much to her surprise, as Hermione leaned forwards, a most mischievous look was plastered over her facial features. It was quite unnerving.

"Then…" she whispered back, "we'll have to encourage it to go away. Besides, there's the off-chance that Harry's affections might alter as he matures too. I'm not saying they will," she added, "but it's not exactly impossible."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked; her heart rate was now speeding up to a point that it resembled at Weird Sisters drumroll.

"For goodness sake," the older girl nearly exploded. "You're smart, funny, compassionate, like Quidditch, and never shy away from a fight that needs to be fought. Besides, I remember you two getting on like fire last year, actually. You both had a right laugh over Percy, his badge and Penelope, if memory serves me correctly, and you had no problem then."

"That was different!" Ginny protested hotly. "That was the one time neither of us were distracted by the Chamber, or of Harry hurting himself." Inwardly, she wondered why she was protesting so much. Hermione was always right, that was the golden rule.

Except when it came towards admitting her feelings towards her pigheaded brother, but that was a work in progress.

"That's simple then," smirked Hermione looking for all the world like the Kneazle that had caught the canary. "You and Harry get on fine, Ginny, better than you know. Besides, there are lots of nice boys out there. You never know."

"Yeah, you would know," Ginny muttered, pausing to make eye contact with Hermione. "Except when one of them's being a self-absorbed, pompous arse like tonight." She gave Hermione a wink, who blinked, then stared at the floor again.

"He was so rude back there, Ginny," she said quietly. "If only he knew…."

Ginny was content to take this as a de-facto admission of affection for her brother, so she let Hermione have her moment. As neither spoke for what seemed like an eternity, Ginny felt that it was her turn to offer moral support.

"Just wait until the git's jaw drops when you and _Viktor_ walk in arm in arm…."

"Shhh!" Hermione hissed, flapping her arms wildly. Ginny laughed.

"Merlin's pants, Hermione, settle down. No one can hear us, least of all Ron."

"Fair point," smiled Hermione. "But I have no idea what your point is Ginny, really. And that's that."

Clearly, Ginny reasoned, denial still held a tight grip on Hermione Granger. One day, she'd see reality.

"I mean that Ron will probably kill you," she elaborated, adding, with a snort, "for going with his beloved _Viktor_."

Hermione laughed.

"Then there's the part when he sees his baby sister dancing with someone else too," Ginny added, giving Hermione a wink. "It's going to be _hell_ for him. Serves him right for suggesting you only said you were unavailable because you didn't want to go with Neville."

"Fair enough," smiled Hermione. "You were very mature in front of Harry, like I said. I was impressed and if Ron had a clue, so would he. I wouldn't worry too much, Ginny. There lots of boys who like you."

"Like who?" Ginny asked, her curiosity piqued.

"How about Michael Corner?" she offered.

"Who?"

"He's in our year," she explained. "I saw him glaring daggers at Neville today."

"Sounds interesting," said Ginny, shrugging her shoulders. She yawned. "Anyway, I'm going with Neville, and I'm told he's really working on his dancing, if what Parvati tells me is true."

"Goodnight Ginny," whispered Hermione, standing up and yawning herself as she made her way for the door. Ginny called out one final time.

"You know, Hermione, we're not so different after all."

"How so?" queried Hermione, her eyebrows knotted in thought.

"Right now, Ron's thoroughly infuriating both of us," she replied. Much to her surprise, Hermione turned and nodded.

"You're not wrong there," she affirmed with a slightly rueful, almost conspiratorial grin. "Goodnight."

 _3:_

As Ron made his way to his and Harry' room, he heard the sound of some hinges opening. He looked round to see a slightly furtive-looking Hermione opening her door and giving him a wave.

"Hey," he whispered, heading back down a floor and doing his best to ignore the snakes in his gut writhing as he approached her. Here they were, alone, with no siblings or Harry around.

"Thanks for coming," he whispered. "I never thanked you properly for that, when you found out about Dad. What were you doing again? Skiing?"

"That's right," he heard rather than saw Hermione smile; aside from her bushy mane of hair, the rest of her was indistinguishable in the gloomy shadows of the stairway in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Somehow, it made frank conversations with her easier, not seeing her face.

"Mental," he snorted. "Strapping yourself to a pair of logs, and hurtling down a steep slope sounds like a perfect recipe for ending up in St. Mungo's."

"One day Ron," he heard Hermione reply with forced dignity, "I'll take you to a skifield and show you how it's done." Ron felt his face heat up – surely she wasn't just suggesting the pair of them? He was under the impression that that had been the reserve of _Vicky_.

"Really?" he squeaked, cursing his voice for suddenly sounding so timid and high. He prayed she wouldn't notice….

"Yes, Ron," laughed Hermione slightly shakily. "Skiing's far less dangerous than Quidditch, after all. No flying around at hundreds of feet in the air, no Bludgers…."

Ron snorted; the narrow corridor made it echo oddly, as though a second person had also expressed scorn at what Hermione was proposing. He looked around nervously, half-expecting one of the Twins to be watching him. No-one there. Summoning up his Gryfifindor courage, he turned back to Hermione.

"Anyway…I also wanted to thank you for your gift, too. It was really thoughtful as well. I said that that perfume was unusual, but I meant it as a compliment…."

It took all of Ron's restraint not to run up and down the dilapidated stairs whooping in delight. Had she understood the hint behind it? In any case, _Vicky_ had never sent her expensive bottles of perfume, and yet _he_ had. It had been painful on the finances, but worth every Knut.

"My pleasure," he replied with what he hoped was the appropriate level of gruffness required for such a situation. His heart was now racing as Hermione took a step upwards towards where he was standing. "I should thank you, Hermione, for dropping your….skis…and coming here. I…er, we really appreciate that."

Hermione giggled quietly as she took a step closer to him. "You've said that already, Ron."

"Really?" asked Ron aloud, cursing himself and his nerves. Hermione gave an apparently intoxicated wobble as she ascended another step. "Still a little tipsy form the Butterbeer, are we?"

Hermione gave a gasp of mock indignation. "Ronald Weasley, how could you?"

"Never mind…" Ron waved an arm. "Merry Christmas, Hermione…aargh!"

Hermione had without warning flung her arms around his neck. "Merry Christmas, Ron," she responded happily. Ron closed his eyes and exhaled, wishing that this moment, awkward as it was, would last just a little bit longer.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, letting Ron go and all but throwing him backwards. His backside landed hard on a step and he swore loudly as he also hit his head. Opening his eyes, he let out a yelp himself as he scrambled madly backwards from where he'd landed.

He'd now spotted what Hermione had. An enchanted piece of mistletoe, growing from the ceiling and arcing its way down towards head height.

"Anyway," he panted, rubbing the dust from the grimy stairs off his hands and backside, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight Ron."

As Hermione tucked herself in, she was too wrapped up in her own emotions to notice that Ginny's bed in the gloom was empty. Ron didn't see anything either. But as both sets of doors closed, a slight sniggering could be heard from the uppermost landing of Number Twelve. The owner of that sniggering had nearly given herself away earlier during Hermione's anti-Quidditch tirade.

Clearly, Ginny mused, spending an extra period of time in the presence of Harry Potter's godfather was having a bad influence on her.

Or rather, she reasoned, a positive one. It really was worth it seeing Ron fall on his backside in such a humiliating fashion.

Such was the Weasley way. Unconditional support and love during a crisis, punctuated during lesser times with the not-so-occasional prank.

And as far as her relationship with Ron was concerned, that was just the way she liked it.


	2. Chapter 2: A Quidditch Triumph

_Author Note: So here it is, the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw Quidditch game that was mentioned in Order of the Phoenix, but the finale of which was never seen by Harry and Hermione!_

 _4:_

Ginny felt her stomach plummet as Roger Davies' Quaffle shot powered into the upper hoop, beyond Ron's outstretched arm. Quite predictably, the crowd of emerald and silver, mock-conducted by a certain detestable blonde-haired student, launched into 'Weasley is our King' with gusto.

" _Weasley cannot save a thing_

 _He cannot block a single ring…"_

"Someone's asking for a Bat-Bogey," Ginny muttered threateningly, while Ron's head sagged as the jeers rose for the second time within five minutes. Ignoring the chants from the Ravenclaw stand of "Ravenclaw, make them sore!" and doing her utmost to avoid eye contact with Michael, whom she'd spotted in the crowd below, she spotted it.

A glimmer of gold.

"Keep your head in the game, Ron!" she called out as she whipped past him in pursuit of the Snitch. However, as quickly as it had appeared, the glimmer of gold had disappeared again. That was the part she hated about being Seeker – the uncertainty of it all.

As Angelina also flew over towards the Keeper's positions to give Ron a brief pep talk, Ginny did her utmost to pull her mind away from Ron's woes. It was all just nerves, she mused. All Ron needed was a confidence boost.

Thirty minutes later, Gryffindor was determinedly doing its utmost to retain momentum – they had scored six goals, sending the gold and scarlet crowds below into an ecstatic frenzy of excitement. It was as if Harry and the Twins had never been chucked from the team; the tension was now palpable. Could this hastily cobbled together team pull off the same outstanding results as it had done previously?

Her heart was in her mouth as she listened into Lee's commentary, throwing a dirty look at Cho who was aggressively boxing her in.

"And Bradley has possession of the Quaffle, Katie Bell attempts to block him, she misses…now Angelina Johnson's forcing him off to the right…by Merlin, that girl can fly; she's such a stunner, that one…"

"JORDAN!"

"Just commenting accurately and professionally, Professor, like you asked. Anyway…"

Typical Lee, Ginny thought, smirking. Turning briefly to watch the action, the grin faded from her face as the last remaining Gryffindor defences crumbled.

"…And Sloper fires off a Bludger at Bradley….he misses, Bradley now has a clear shot on goal, Ron needs to keep his head…come on Ron, block him…..HE'S DONE IT! EXPERT FEINT MOVE BY BRADLEY BLOCKED EFFORTLESSLY BY KEEPER RON WEASLEY! So we're forty minutes in, folks, Gryffindor are still forty points up, sixty-twenty, still seen very little of the Snitch, both Seekers Weasley and Chang will be searching for that instant rapid victory…"

The triumphant save by Ron was followed, Ginny was pleased to see, by a superb spinner from Katie that soared home inches from the Ravenclaw Keeper's right shoulder.

"If only Oliver Wood could see this," Ginny muttered to herself, just as Angelina yelled out "Great job, Katie! Let's keep blitzing them."

Ravenclaw's counterattack was lithe, vicious, and well-coordinated, though Andrew Kirke's Bludger shot retarded Chambers' assault on the Gryffindor goalposts and gave Ron the chance to catch the Quaffle almost nonchalantly. As he threw the ball to Alicia, the Gryffindor stands launched into a new version of 'Weasley is our King,' led on by what appeared to be Colin Creevey's squeaky voice, discernible due to its enthusiasm even at a great altitude. Ginny slowed to a hover, craning her neck around to see Ron's flushed expression of euphoria as the Gryffindor crowd roared in approval:

" _Weasley can save anything,_

 _He never leaves a single ring,_

 _That's why Gryffindors all sing:_

 _Weasley is our King_."

"Ginny? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? CHANG'S RIGHT BEHIND YOU!" bellowed Angelina, nearly making Ginny jump off her broom. Pirouetting to face the other side of the field, she saw it.

Cho Chang had also spotted the telltale glimmer, and was diving at maximum speed towards her own house's stands, who were yelling themselves hoarse.

Ginny egged her Cleansweep on….this was not how it was supposed to end. Her costing the team its victory was _not_ , dammit, part of the game plan.

As Ginny drew near, the Snitch changed course, ascending vertically and causing Cho to smash into the fabric coating of the lowest stand, though she remained upright. Her eyes widened as she saw Ginny's scarlet streak headed for her, and with a scowl and a determined shake of the head, kicked off again.

As the slipstream's noise built up to a deafening howl, Ginny jerked her broom upwards, now tailing Cho by mere feet. Cho had the altitude advantage, but Ginny still had the advantage of speed she'd gained from her rapid dive.

Cho made a blind, desperate grab for the snitch, sending her broom into wild oscillations and forcing Ginny to veer right. She could hear, as if underwater, Lee bellowing himself hoarse, but it and the crowd's cheering or jeering was oddly muted. All that mattered was that tiny golden ball that was now flitting its way towards her outstretched hand. She smiled. After all this drama, it was going to be an easy catch….

WHAM.

A Bludger connected painfully with her right knee.

Ginny cursed herself. As if the Ravenclaws would simply let her grab the Snitch from under Cho's nose! As her broom finally ran out of airspeed, the broom pitched down of its own accord, and with a horrible start, she saw to her displeasure that Cho had recovered, and was now diving towards the Snitch. Not so much flying as freefalling, she corkscrewed down towards Cho and her prize.

As Cho exclaimed in fright, pulling away and pushing her broom into a prolonged barrel-roll, all the while probing Ginny's defences, neither could grab the Snitch.

The ground was now about to swallow them up.

Her best chance about to evaporate, Ginny darted inwards, her fingers grazing the Snitch's wing…

...only to collide with Cho as she instinctively made the same move.

The green was now spiraling up to meet her….she closed her eyes and braced for the impact.

The Cleansweep's front end dug firmly into the soft turf, and Ginny was propelled head over-heels.

As she rolled over, she was dimly aware of something brushing feebly against her fingers.

She opened her mud-encrusted eyes, trying not to think about the injuries her foolhardy move might have inflicted on her. She turned to see Cho, picking herself off the ground and also looking rather worse for wear. Ginny saw the other girl's eyes widen as she spotted Ginny lying half-upright and grimacing on the field.

"Ginny!" She rushed forwards. "Oh my - you all right?"

"Been better," Ginny admitted with another grimace, considering Cho's proffered right hand of assistance. A thought suddenly crossed her."Er, hang on…" Brushing mud off her left hand, she starred dumbly at her enclosed right fist lying on the ground. Hoping beyond hope, she opened it slowly….

Cho's face fell as tears began to well up, and she turned away, chucking her broom aside.

"Cho…" Ginny began, but Cho was now gone, swallowed up by her sympathetic teammates landing all around her. Relief and euphoria flooding every inch of her body, Ginny gingerly got to her feet and stretched out her fist as the stadium all but exploded.

"SHE'S DONE IT!" Lee bellowed into his megaphone, and Ginny could see Professor McGonagall blowing into a handkerchief beside him. "Ginny Weasley secures the Cup for Gryffindor, two hundred and twenty points to twenty! What a daring move, not since Harry Potter _swallowed_ the Snitch during his first game have I seen such a display…"

Laughing, Ginny turned to her teammates, only to have all the breath knocked out of her as Angelina wrapped her in a bear-hug and smashed her lips onto Ginny's forehead, followed by similar treatment from Alicia and Katie, their cries of elation drowning out the other sounds from the stands. Her hair was ruffled by the clumsy hugs and pats of Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke, and then she turned to see a swaggering, ecstatic Ron, having now landed to take part in the celebrations himself. On cue, the Gryffindor crowd burst into song again.

" _Weasley is our King,_

 _Weasley is our King,_

 _He didn't let the Quaffle in,_

 _Weasley has made sure we'll win,_

 _Weasley is our King…"_

"Well, well, well," Ginny called out, separating herself from Angelina for the second time, who now looked as if she was about to have an emotional breakdown. "Well done, _Your Majesty._ Am I meant to curtsey?" she added sardonically.

Ron wrinkled his nose. "Nah. It doesn't really suit you, Gin. Never one to respect authority, are you?"

"Damn right," Ginny nodded in affirmation, abandoning her dignity and rushing in for a hug.

"Ugggh," Ron muttered as he returned the favour. "Take it gently – need my ribs intact, you know?"

"Thankfully, feels like I still have mine," Ginny replied, breaking away and rubbing her hands over a particularly painful twinge in her left leg. Nothing broken, she reasoned. Just heavy bruising and a slight twinge or two. Then something caught her eye.

"Ron! Look," she exclaimed, pointing to where a most disgruntled Umbridge was passing the Quidditch House Cup to the still-sobbing Professor McGonagall with perhaps her most forced saccharine smile yet, if that was possible. Ron snorted loudly and moved away to greet the other team members.

The rest of the celebrations on the pitch passed in a blur for Ginny. All her teammates embraced Ron in a frenzied manner as the Gryffindor crowd continued its chant, some now spilling onto the pitch to congratulate the team.

" _He didn't let the Quaffle in,_

 _Weasley is our King…."_

Colin Creevey was eagerly snapping left, right and centre, while Luna, she was pleased to see, had arrived, simply patted her shoulder and said "well done," before vanishing again. Ginny beamed as Professor McGonagall presented the trophy to Angelina, who passed it onto Ron. Ron, however, blanched and shoved the trophy towards Ginny.

"You won the match, take it."

"Rubbish. _We all_ won it," she admonished. "You're the 'king,' you take it."

Smiling, Ron raised the trophy aloft to the heavens, and the Gryffindor crowd roared its approval for the umpteenth time.

"Congratulations," came a quiet voice from behind her. She jumped, and turned to face Michael, who was smiling at her, though something didn't quite feel right.

"Well done on the win," he said, in a rather flat tone. Ginny's eyebrows knotted themselves into a scowl.

"What's with the tone?" she chided.

Ron had turned at the sound of her heated voice, and his face went from joyful to something distinctly uglier. "Hi Michael," he said stiffly. "Ginny, do you have any idea where Harry, Hermione and Hagrid are? They'd surely be here by now."

"Haven't the foggiest," Ginny responded, dismissively waving Ron away. "Later, Ron."

She turned back to Michael. "See you this evening after dinner, okay?"

"Okay," he half-mumbled. "See you then." He squeezed Ginny's hand. "Got to be off, need to talk to Cho and our team."

Ginny shook her head in exasperation at her boyfriend's prickly demeanour. He could have after all sounded a bit more genuine in congratulating her, surely? Turning to face Ron once again, she had to roll her eyes as a horde of Gryffindors, including but not limited to her teammates, hoisted her brother onto their shoulders and set off for the path towards the Castle, singing out their new version of 'Weasley is our King' even as their voices became steadily more hoarse with overuse.

 _A/N 2: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Coming up: the aftermath of the Ginny-Dean row over McLaggen injuring Harry in HBP when she visits Ron and the unconscious Harry in the Hospital Wing, a quiet moment between the two siblings over the Summer break after Harry and Ginny have split up, and a final humorous moment at Bill and Fleur's wedding before the Trio go on the run._


	3. Qudditch Tribulations and Heartbreak

_A/N: Hi all! This chapter features Ginny's visit to see Harry and Ron after the Quidditch fisco involving McLaggen. It also features a quiet moment where Ron attempts to comfort Ginny one night in summer at the Burrow after she and Harry have split and before the events in the Deathly Hallows._

 _A small note: I decided to borrow a concept from the Deathly Hallows Part 1 film - the use of an actual Muggle song over the radio to convey the mood of a scene. A portion of lyrics from the song 'Sister' by the Black Keys are used. Disclaimer: not surprisingly, I do not have ownership over this music, nor over JKR's characters._

 _5:_

At the sound of the footsteps, Ron rolled over to see a most harried-looking Ginny, her nostrils flared and looking unusually pale.

"Hey Gin, you all right?" he whispered, giving the still-unconscious Harry a quick, nervous look. The poor bloke probably needed his sleep, after all.

Ginny's eyes flicked away from the sleeping figure back to him. "Fine," she replied tersely. "Just a little pissed off about McLaggen costing us that match, the utter f-"

"What was the score?" he heard himself ask, simultaneously dreading the answer and hoping that McLaggen had been thoroughly humiliated.

"Three hundred and twenty to sixty," sighed Ginny, plonking herself down at the foot of his bed. A frown crossed her features as she stared at Ron minutely. "Don't tell me you're _pleased_ , Won-Won?" Ron involuntarily shuddered at the mention of his girlfriend's pet name for him.

Girlfriend.

Was she really still? They hadn't split up, he reasoned. Not yet, anyway.

"Don't call me that," he moaned, sinking his face into his hands. "It's bad enough when she rushes in and…."

"What?" said Ginny, her bad temper clearly fading away as a smirk crossed her features. "You mean when you suddenly, miraculously fall asleep the moment she arrives? So Hermione tells me, anyway."

"I need my sleep," Ron argued, hoping the answer would sound even remotely convincing to Ginny.

Because it definitely didn't sound convincing to him.

"Forget it." Ginny dismissed the matter with a wave of her hand, still with a smirk on her face.

At that moment, Harry chose to roll over, better exposing in the faint light of dusk the copious bandages atop his head and muttering slightly as he sank back into his pillow. The smirk vanished from Ginny's features as she rocketed over to the gap between Ron and Harry's beds, electing to sit on the nearest available chair.

Ron raised his eyebrows. The incident, or something related to it, had clearly rattled Ginny. Then again, having your Captain suffer a nasty head injury courtesy of a Bludger and a flying baboon brandishing a bat was hardly a trivial matter. Maybe, he mused, he should feel more worried about how close his best mate came to serious grief than gleefully anticipating McLaggen's expulsion from the team.

"He's fine, Ginny," he said quietly. "Madam Pomfrey fixed his skull up in ten seconds." Ginny jumped slightly, and smiled back. "I know. I was…" she stared out at the darkening grounds, the mountain range opposite the Castle glowing pink in the fading light. "I was thinking about Harry's flying today. He was very late, and that was the worst flying I've _ever_ seen from him."

"That's weird," Ron muttered. "Did he mention a reason why?"

"Yep," sighed Ginny exasperatedly. "He bumped into Draco Malfoy."

"What? Not again….."

"Yes, Malfoy."

"Forget about him and Cho, it's been him and Malfoy now for the whole bloody year," said Ron, letting out a small, immature snigger. "I know Hermione's planning to murder him if he mentions Malfoy again."

"I'll help her," added Ginny, letting out a weak chuckle herself. "I know he's an untrustworthy, sniveling little ferret, but Harry's wasting his time fretting about what he's up to. Slytherin has lots of them. Like that Blaise Zabini."

"What about him?"

Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "Gives me the creeps, that one. If I didn't know better, I'd say he fancied me…."

"Seriously, I'm ill already," Ron complained. "It was bad enough with that git Corner…"

"Point taken."

"…but a Slytherin, I mean….that's diabolical." Ron wrinkled his nose as a thought crossed his mind. "Hang on, why isn't Dean here with you?" Much to his surprise, he saw Ginny stiffen. Something akin to pleasure coursed through him. If her relationship with Dean was getting frayed, then he was nothing short of thrilled. The sensation was matched by his old voice demanding Dean's blood, which had suddenly returned with a vengeance.

"Do you think Dean and I are stitched together at the hip?" Ginny shot back crossly. "Moving back to Harry…"

"Yeah, well, his obsession with Malfoy is a little bizarre," Ron acknowledged, deciding not for the first time to stay out of his sister's love life for his own safety. That said, if Dean had emotionally injured her in any way, he'd have hell to pay…..

"…So he'll be out of here in no time, then?" Ginny's query snapped him out of it. He waved a hand airily. "Of course. Now, tell me about what you're doing with McLaggen," he added, unable to hold back the relish from entering his voice.

"Oh, we'll think of something, rest assured," Ginny nodded at him. "Pushing him off the Astronomy Tower sounds like a good start, but unfortunately, it's probably not a goer."

"Make sure I'm invited," Ron added with a grin. "I'm sure Harry will join you in applying a few neat jinxes he's learned." Ginny frowned again as she leaned forwards. "Please don't tell me it's from that bloody book."

"Yep, the one and only Half Blood Prince's…." Ron's next words were cut off as Madam Pomfrey whipped into sight, and made her way towards Ron and Harry's beds determinedly.

"Time to leave, Miss Weasley," she said crisply. "I'm just about to give your brother his sleeping potion." At that, she turned to measure out the dosage, giving Ginny the chance to say goodnight.

"See you tomorrow, eh? I'll be sure to bring Hermione along – if she's not already bored by her enormous number of visits, that is."

"She's a friend," Ron protested as his stomach swooped at the thought of another visit from Hermione. "So what if we need to catchup after…everything?" Ginny laughed and gave him a wave from near the doorway as Harry stirred again, muttering incoherently for a couple of seconds. But she wasn't finished.

"Talking of catching up, when was the last time Lavender had a conversation in here with you?"

"Oh, bugger off," Ron muttered quietly to himself as Madam Pomfrey handed him a small glass of potion.

"All right then?" she asked. "You'd damn well better be after what I've had to deal with this year."

Ron nodded in gratitude and put the potion on his bedside table as Harry groaned slightly, rubbed his forehead lazily and opened his eyes, blinking in confusion and starting slightly as he turned to face Ron.

"Nice of you to drop in," he greeted Harry cheerfully.

 _6:_

He couldn't pick up the identity of the sound at first, but whatever it was, it woke Ron up suddenly.

There it was again. A creak from the kitchen. The idea that any Death Eaters had broken in was nonsense, but Ron nevertheless reached for his wand on top of his bedside table. _Constant vigilance_ , he thought.

As he neared the landing, he heard other sounds too….the hiss of their father's Muggle radio being operated and tuned, followed by a muffled sniff.

" _Lumos_ ," he whispered, and turning the corner, was confronted by the sight of Ginny, clad in her dressing gown and sitting alone at the table in the gloom. A mug of steaming tea was clasped in one hand, and Ron was shocked to see tear tracks down her cheeks. She jumped at the illumination caused by Ron's spell, waved glumly at him, then with a shaking, steadying sigh, looked down at her drink.

"Mind if I join you?" Ron whispered tentatively, taking the seat next to her. Now he was closer to the radio, he could hear distorted snatches of what appeared to be a rock song.

 _Wake up_

 _You're gonna wake up to nothing._

Ginny nodded tremulously as Ron placed a comforting hand on Ginny's left arm. "What happened?"

Ginny wiped her eyes and said simply "A nightmare. A bad one."

 _Break up_

 _The break up is coming_

 _And when your heart is hollow_

 _Another pill to swallow_

"But you haven't had a bad one in years!" Ron protested as the music continued blaring in a shrill, tinny manner, punctuated by hisses and eliktrik- no, electronic, that was the phrase – noises. He lowered his voice again, anxiety gripping his core. This was not typical Ginny behaviour.

Ginny shook her head, fresh tears beginning to well up as she blew her nose. "It was my old one…in the Chamber. Except this time, Harry got defeated, I was watching him slowly die….and I could do nothing except watch. Totally useless." Letting out another deep steadying breath, she turned to face Ron, who wondered how his sister could somehow look incredibly mature and world-weary, and yet also so utterly vulnerable, frightened and defeated simultaneously.

He didn't want to pry into the likely delicate nature of Harry and Ginny's relationship now that a clearly-hurting Harry had opted to end it; this was Hermione's domain. But Hermione was possibly hundreds of miles away, still with her parents, and he had no choice.

"Have you spoken to Harry since…..since the funeral?" At that, Ginny frowned.

"No," she spat out the single word bitterly. "He can't anyway. It's too much for him. That's the worst thing about it. Being able to do nothing."

 _Sister…sister_

 _What did they do to you?_

 _What did they do to you?_

 _Did they take and try to break_

 _A heart that long_

 _It's so wrong_

"Drink the tea," Ron suggested. As Ginny shot him a hawkish glance, he elaborated. "It's what always makes me feel better. All we need right now is Professor Lupin and his chocolates."

Ginny let out a strangled chuckle that was muffled by a solitary sob as she took another deep breath and downed the rest of her tea in one.

"Refill?" Ron suggested, offering his hand out to take Ginny's mug. As he approached the kettle, pausing only to turn off the radio, Ginny's voice reached out to him.

"It's totally unjust, this whole thing."

"I know," Ron acknowledged. "But you know Mum won't let you get involved in our plan to get Harry safely here, and if it were up to me, neither would I. You're underage, after all."

"I know that," Ginny snapped back in a furious whisper. "Not that you three have the right to talk." Ron felt a stab of annoyance as he prepared the tea, punctured in quick order by Ginny chiming in again.

"Sorry Ron. Didn't mean to bite your head off. Besides, I'm not worried about Mum. I was talking about Harry."

"Yeah?" said Ron dumbly as he handed the steaming mug over to Ginny who, he was pleased to see, had some colour returning to her face.

"Thanks Ron. It's just not fair, what he has to do…or think he has to."

"He's got a mission," said Ron shortly. "He can't shirk or avoid it – he has no choice."

"I know. And you can drop the charade of secrecy, Ron. We both know it's about killing Tom….Voldemort. _Grow up_ ," she added irritably as Ron shivered slightly. "And you've missed the point. It's actually about more than Harry and Voldemort. Mum and Dad were in the Order well before Harry came along."

"But it's different for you…" Ron began, but he was cut off by Ginny.

"Why?" she demanded. "Because I'm underage? Because I was Harry's girlfriend?" She snorted derisively. "Like that's going to make a difference. Look at my first year. Look at Dad and Bill! We've all been nearly killed at least three times over by now; including in the Ministry and that night when Dumbledore was killed, and we're all targets because of what we stand for and who we love."

"Guess you're right," Ron sighed, recoiling at the memory of the brain attack. The marks they had imprinted had never truly faded away, and he'd figured he'd have them for life. "Just wish Harry had someone to shoulder a little of the burden he carries every day, give him some hope. What with Dumbledore gone…"

"You're doing that for Harry," Ginny finished for him, laying her hand on his wrist as she stared intently at him. "You and Hermione have done that for years. I…I just wish I could be of help too."

Ron swallowed nervously. _Definitely not my area of expertise, comforting heartbroken sisters_ , he thought _._ Silence swallowed up the Burrow's kitchen. Shifting his gaze away from Ginny, he turned to see their mother's clock, faintly lit by the wand beam, but with all hands pointing at _mortal peril_.

"Every day you're safe," he began tentatively, "you help." He turned back to face Ginny, loathing his sheer inability to cure even a tiny portion of the anguish and pain she'd been forced to go through with a lack of complaints from her. Around Harry, anyway. Impulsively, he pulled her into a proper, comforting hug, the first such one he'd had to give since the summer after the horror of the Chamber of Secrets. The fact that she gave a squeeze and a shaky, calming exhalation in return indicated that this rare moment of overt sibling affection was welcome.

Of course, in one regard, this was worse than her first year at Hogwarts. Friendship, family, bed rest and excess amounts of hot chocolate as ordered by Dumbledore had worked their magic on curing her after the Chamber business. No such luck when dealing with a broken heart, and especially not in her particular circumstance.

"You're taken it so well because you need to protect him," he said aloud to the night. He felt a shiver run through Ginny as she let out another stifled sob and felt her nod and press into his right shoulder. He'd known on a basic level how and why the split had occurred, but that didn't stop his overprotective side from wanting to confront Harry over how cut up she was over it. But now he knew _properly._ Ginny had limited her contact with Harry after the funeral to a perfunctory minimum, not because she was furious and couldn't stand to be near him, but because she was terrified he'd catch on over how utterly distraught and defeated she was feeling right when he needed her to be stoic and understanding.

"I'm sorry. I…I'm not good with this," he finished lamely. Ginny cocked her head to one side as she pulled away from the hug, appraising him.

"For a bloke who, according to Hermione, has exhibited the emotional range of a teaspoon at times - yes, she's mentioned it to me – that was pretty good. Consumed a bit of research literature, have we?"

Ron blanched. Was Ginny referring to that amazing book gifted to him by Fred and George?

"Don't know what you're talking about," he said gruffly, causing Ginny to elbow him impatiently.

"Prat. _I_ suggested that they give you a copy of that book. Maybe so you could understand any _anvil-sized hints_ coming your way from a certain someone, hmmm?"

Ron's heart skipped a beat. " _What?_ "

"Figure it out for yourself," she teased, but her eyes hardened as she leaned forwards again. "Listen. Half the time, I don't know what goes on between you three, but I'll say this, you mean so much to Harry, and yes, Hermione too, and more than you could imagine. When she found out about your poisoning, it took both Harry and I to stop her from barging into the Hospital Wing right when Madam Pomfrey was still stabilising you."

Sheer elation, relief and also remorse coursed its way through Ron's veins as one of the mysteries of the year had been finally resolved. Hermione had never stopped caring about him even when he was taking every opportunity to stick his tongue down Lavender's throat. How utterly appalling it was that while he was determinedly taking every opportunity to prove that he, Ron, was capable of striking out on his own without worrying about unrequited love, she'd had to tolerate that cold-shouldering and then been sent into a flight of panic by his poisoning and had kept vigil at his bed alongside Ginny and Harry – most likely, he reasoned, without them, too. He had a memory of someone tenderly holding and stroking his hand and whispering his name, but the details were so vague that it might have just been a dream or fantasy playing out when he was semiconscious.

Ginny's voice snapped him out of it again.

"Just promise me something Ron."

"Yeah?"

"Whatever you're doing….I know that it will be incredibly dangerous. Make sure you and Hermione always have each other's backs, and be there for each other. This is Voldemort we're talking about, I knew him for a whole year. He can get to people in mysterious ways."

Ron nodded his mind wandering off again. He knew that Ginny wasn't just talking about threats to life and limb, and the way she was talking about him and Hermione, it was as if she was acknowledging they were already together. Or would be soon. Yes, he loved that girl, barmy as she was at times, with more energy than he'd have once thought possible, but being together _like that_ was surely now impossible? Given Ginny and Harry had been forced into splitting, surely being there for Harry and stopping Voldemort had killed off any romance potential for himself?

"You have that face again," he heard her tease from a long way off.

"Huh?"

"The 'I'm thinking about Hermione face,'" she elaborated with a cross between a smirk and a genuine smile. Ron shrugged his shoulders – he wasn't exactly willing to express his affections openly, but he no longer had the energy to deny them either.

"You're lucky," she said with a hint of melancholy.

"I know." Another nod, another mutual smile. This sort of silence didn't demand to be filled with anything.

Ron yawned and looked at his watch. Mad-Eye Moody would be coming along at the crack of dawn with a few ideas of how to get Harry safely away from his aunt and uncle's, and if he wanted to digest any plans properly or avoid an earful from moody, he'd have to be in top shape.

"Goodnight Gin," he whispered. Ginny looked as if she was about to follow him, but sat back down again.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

"I know I won't sleep," Ginny replied ruefully. "Not after that last nightmare, so what's the point?"

At that point, Ron had a brainwave. There _was_ something that could cheer Ginny up, sleep be damned.

"How about one-person Quidditch?"

"You mean the game where we'd just chuck objects at each other on brooms over the orchard?" queried Ginny, a telltale spark returning to her eyes. "Great idea."

"Excellent," relied Ron, enthused at seeing Ginny's eagerness for a good old sibling fight on brooms. "After all, training's important for aspiring professionals," he added, throwing in a mock bow to Ginny.

"Yes, Gwenog Jones was telling me about her training regimen at the last Slug Club event," chimed in Ginny happily, adding for good measure in an arrogantly posh, Malfoy-esque voice "I have _connections_ , after all."

"You and the bloody Harpies," shot back Ron. "It'll be the death of me. See you in five minutes by the shed, yeah?" he finished as Ginny stuck her tongue at him and headed for her bedroom to get changed.

As Ginny made her way up to her bedroom, a door opened as both of Ginny's parents watched on, then nodded.

"You think she had another one?" asked Arthur. Molly's face fell as she turned to face her husband.

"Yes, Arthur, I do. The worst part of it is that you can't blame anyone except You-Know-Who for this….what our poor girl's going through. What the poor dear's going through," agreed Molly, dabbing briefly at her eyes.

"He'll always have us," murmured Arthur, kissing his wife's temple reassuringly. "And it looks like she and Ron might have found something to keep both their spirits up. We're all going to need it."

"Thankfully, we've got our beautiful boy and Fleur's wedding coming up," whispered back Molly. "Sometimes these sorts of times are just the thing to bring us all closer."

"As you and I would know from history, dear," replied Arthur, wrapping an arm around Molly's waist and kissing her on the cheek.

 _A/N: The next chapters will feature a humorous moment betwene Ron and Ginny at Bill and Fleur's wedding before the Trio flee from the Death Eaters. It will also include a scene placed during the ceasefire between the Hogwarts defenders and the Death Eaters (and after Fred's death), as well as two post-battle scenes, one taking place at Godric's Hollow on Christmas Eve (yep, had to throw in the Christmas theme!) The moment at the wedding was supposed to be in this chapter, but I had so much good material in this chapter, I thought it felt complete without it.  
_

 _A final note: the 'anvil-sized hints' jab by Ginny was a reference to a comment by JKR about the hints of romantic interest she'd written between Ron and Hermione._


	4. Absence of Hope

_Author's_ Note: _So here we are. Bill and Fleur's wedding, as seen through the eyes of Ron, as he and Ginny engage in a final round of sibling banter. Note the references to Muggle music by Ginny. ABBA is referenced, and of course, 'David' is none other than David Bowie. I of course hold no right to Bowie's work, including the song 'Heroes,' which is both a classic, and strangely relatable to the Harry Potter world at this point in the story._

 _Then we have the events of the ceasefire as seen through the eyes of both Ron and Ginny, such as the latter comforting the injured girl that Harry sees on his way to face Voldemort. Be warned, the story does get angtsy from here! It's definitely no longer a comedy fic._

 _As per some of my other fics, I tend to focus on keeping it consistent with the novels, but I do on occasion like to throw in a reference to the films as well, whether for mocking their portrayal of certain events, or because I genuinely love a concept they put forward. Overall, I sometimes feel that the filmmakers get undeserved flak from the fandom, but that's just me. As a result, enjoy the reference to the hilarious 'she's got nice skin' scene in the sixth film, as well as a small nod to the scene where Harry finds Ron and Hermione holding hands on the the stairs during the Battle of Hogwarts._

 _7:_

Ron scowled as he took a seat with the Butterbeer he'd poured for Hermione and awaited her return. He'd spotted Viktor Krum gesticulating heatedly towards Xenophilius Lovegood and his robes. Even now, after he'd just been _dancing_ with Hermione, at long last, the bloody git had to make a scene in front of him.

Then again, he mused, perhaps he should concentrate on the positives and be a little more grateful. He'd finally gotten a dance with Hermione for a start, no Death Eaters had so far ruined proceedings, Muriel was off and distracted somewhere away from him, and also no catcalls from the Twins whom, he'd noticed, had disappeared with a couple of Veela in-laws.

Of course, the fact that his brother and Fleur were now husband and wife would have to take the cake, he thought. It was funny what a wedding did to people. He'd felt as if every last awkward, impenetrable wall between himself with Hermione was being progressively demolished with every sway and beat. He knew he was hardly an optimist in this field, but he couldn't deny that relations with her seemed to be going in a direction he liked – closer. And to think he'd gaped at his now-sister-in-law like a gormless moron as recently as last year! Tonight, he couldn't care less. A couple of rock hits from the Weird Sisters and a slower ballad – 'Magic Works' – plus the overall atmosphere for the evening had Hermione sighing and leaning onto his shoulder. Almost _intimately_ , even. To hell with whatever disgusting thing he'd done with his mouth the previous year, this was the real deal….

A blur of golden robes flashed by his only partially in-focus eyes. He felt a tap on his shoulder. He jumped and turned to face his beaming sister, who took the vacant seat beside him.

"Hey, twinkletoes," she teased. "I see both the book and those lessons I gave you in the last couple of weeks paid off, no?" Ron chuckled slightly and waved his hands casually – trying his best to not look too hyped and on-edge about what he and Hermione could be doing later that evening. Another dance; it was all too simple, just lean forwards a couple more inches….

"Like I said, you're lucky," she said far more sombrely, as a new, slower and more mournful tune came on.

Ron swallowed nervously and turned to face her, expecting to see a hint of resentment or irritation. To his surprise, he couldn't fathom the exact emotion on Ginny's face. Powerful, but what was it?

"I wish I could say sorry," he began hesitantly. "About what happened that day. But I can't. I was if anything just as much looking out for Harry, actually. He can't afford to be emotionally injured any more than necessary and….that…something like that would make it even worse for him, as it would for you."

Ginny's eyes blazed. "I don't care one bit about myself getting hurt. It's too late for me, anyway."

"But you care about Harry," Ron almost breathed, hoping to calm things down. Much to his surprise, her fierce expression crumbled, and she looked down glumly at the ground, then over to where 'Cousin Barney' was sitting, talking to a wizened guest fervently. "Nice music," he added lamely, hoping to take her mind onto more cheerful topics.

"It is, isn't it?" she agreed, smiling and nodding at Lee as he passed. "And Lee's a good dancer and always great for a laugh. Him and his Quidditch commentary back in the day….." She let out a chuckle and scanned the marquee to where Hagrid was slurping down another tankard of something strong beside Charlie. Ron too looked towards the dancefloor where his parents and the Delacours were gently swaying slowly in time to the unfamiliar tune.

… _I, I will be king_

 _And you, you will be queen_

 _Though nothing, will drive them away_

 _We can be heroes, just for one day_

 _We can be us, just for one day_

"Pretty bittersweet," Ron remarked, grimacing. "Who recorded this one?"

Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "Not sure," she remarked. "Mum, Fleur and Bill did most of the music preparation, but Dad also suggested adding a few Muggle songs and enlisted Hermione to help. Apparently she'd packed a few records from her parents' place, given Dad had previously asked her about listening to some at King's Cross." Ron snorted loudly.

"Typical Dad. Did she say by who?"

"Dunno, there were a few old songs she mentioned, like a couple by a European Muggle band with two A's and two B's, plus some bloke named David. Why are _you_ so interested?" Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know," he muttered. "It's weird. It's…..kind of _getting_ tome, I guess."

"Really good music does that," Ginny replied. "Though I hated some of the rubbish Seamus tried to play around Dean and I." As both fell into companionable silence, the squabbling between the older gentleman beside the disguised Harry and their insufferable Great Aunt drew their attention.

"Old bat," Ron muttered. "Thank Merlin she's no longer insulting the bride's nationality."

"She does like to do her bit for international relations, doesn't she?" Ginny agreed idly. "And poor Harry; first Voldemort, then Umbridge, then Scrimgeour and now Muriel." Ron snorted again as she continued with a grin. "The one thing we need is Fred setting off a firework or something in front of her and she'll never return. Except of course, to give you another big, sloppy kiss." Ron glared at her as he squirmed in his seat.

"Never remind me of that again," he shot back as he shuddered at the horrible memory. Turning slowly away from Muriel and Ginny's mile-wide smirk, his eyes fell upon a far more gratifying sight.

She'd sat down beside Harry, and was massaging her foot, having taken a shoe off. Maybe it was the lighting, or the occasion, or - Ron's heart skipped a beat thinking about it - just maybe, it was the experience of them dancing, but her eyes had appeared to be shining even more than usual. He'd marveled at how her normally wild hair had been tamed by the application of that hair potion she'd used, a few stray strands on the sides of her fringe combed back and held in place by a handful of clips, and the way her curls fell elegantly over her bare shoulders. Even with her hair slowly coming undone and more disheveled and her cheeks flushed with pleasurable exhaustion from all the dancing, she looked more stunning than ever. Then of course there was her smile, and the way she'd laughed and rubbed his arm when he'd made a lame pun….

"She looks nice, doesn't she?" commented Ginny, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Huh?" he said dumbly, realising with a horrible jolt that his mouth was hanging open slightly. Her smirk grew as she leaned forward.

"Well, she does have nice skin, doesn't she, Ron?" Ron scowled back.

"What the bloody hell…."

"Nothing." Still smirking, Ginny turned back to face Hermione and Harry.

Ron seized the opportunity for some revenge without hesitation. "And you stop looking at 'Cousin Barney' like that right now, it's disturbing." As soon as the words left his lips, he regretted them, wondering if he'd seriously wounded Ginny in what was meant to be a simple sibling back-and-forth. To his surprise, Ginny turned back to him and cracked an evil smile.

"We are Pure-Bloods after all," she replied matter-of-factly. "Got to keep up the old traditions, like the Blacks and Malfoys, not to mention other old wizarding families with Death Eat-"

Ron's thoughts about Ginny's appalling incest joke were promptly wiped out by a sudden bright flash, eliciting squeals and yells from several of the dancers. The silvery lynx that had produced the flash then settled onto its paws, right in the middle of the marquee, and spoke in the low, deep and controlled voice of Kingsley.

" _The Ministry has fallen. The Minister is dead. They are coming."_

As the Patronus vanished with another flash, there was all but two seconds of shocked quiet, then pandemonium broke out. Instinctively, Ron locked his eyes with Hermione, more than ten yards away, and nodded. Acting on a final impulse, he grabbed Ginny's arm as he disdainfully threw the Butterbeer aside with his other hand. Turning back to face Ginny, his eyes met hers.

"Keep Harry and Hermione safe," she called out over the din that had freshly erupted, giving his hand an authoritative squeeze of farewell. Ron nodded as he let go of Ginny's hand.

"And keep yourself safe," he yelled back. "For me, Hermione _and_ Harry." Ginny nodded grimly and turned her back to him, pulling out her wand as she prepared herself for the attack that would surely be only seconds away.

As Ron fought his way through the crowd, navigated towards Hermione's frenzied yells of "Ron!" and grabbed her hand with a sigh of relief, before turning to see Harry grab Hermione's spare hand, he somehow found time to silently marvel at how much his sister had matured.

As he felt Hermione twist ever so slightly, and his world disappeared in a howl of bright colours accompanying the nauseating feeling of being squeezed through a miniscule tube, the chaotic combination of relief that Hermione was okay, horror at Kingsley's news, and fear of what awaited himself, Hermione and Harry at the other end wiped out all other thoughts from his mind.

 _8:_

Ron ignored all the stares from people in the Great Hall as he dragged himself away from the spot on the Great Hall's floor where George was fighting a losing battle against a struggling Percy, whose howls of grief filled the air around his family and Fred's prone form. Ron felt as if he was under some suffocating bright spotlight. Not caring about his uncontrollable shaking of his extremities, he did his best to suppress the searing pain in his lungs as his legs took him towards the nearest source of fresh air. Pain, death and hopelessness surrounded him on all sides. Feeling the urge to vomit as he passed the peaceful forms of Lupin and Tonks, their fingertips now locked together for all eternity, he tried to focus on his destination.

He knew the eyes of his grieving brothers, of Ginny, his parents and Hermione were on him, but he didn't care. None of them called out to him; for that he was grateful. Was it because they knew he needed solitude to process it all, or were they so cocooned in their own world of pain that his absence was soon going to be unnoticed?

Just like the haggard Parvati, Dean and Seamus, who were watching mutely as Madam Pomfrey feverishly applied Essence of Dittany to Lavender's lacerated tissue; Seamus was supporting her head gingerly while Parvati held her hand. None of them acknowledged him passing by. Neither did Ernie, Susan and Hannah, who were whispering words of encouragement as Justin Finch-Fletchley, clutching his ribs in agony while on a stretcher, was lowered gently onto a spare section of floor. A grimacing Michael Corner lay ominously quiet nearby, an ugly, deep wound straight as an arrow in his leg. _Sectumsempra_ , Ron thought bitterly, as he lowered his eyes to avoid a gaunt Professor McGonagall's empathic gaze and headed into the badly damaged Entrance Hall. He made his way up two levels, ignoring the occasional student descending while bearing a stretcher with an obviously deceased individual.

He reached the corridor that for better or worse had defined much of their time in Hogwarts, and which had proved indispensable to defeating Voldemort mere hours beforehand. How innocent they had all been at the time he, Hermione and Harry had brewed Polyjuice Potion, he mused. Except for Ginny, of course, but that was unknown at the time. Sighing as he braced himself against a wall, he not so much sat as slumped, hungrily consuming the crisp night air emanating through the shattered window opposite like a drowning man.

It didn't take long for footsteps to reach his ears, amid a couple of tentative calls of "Ron?"

To hell with that, he thought savagely. He didn't need sympathy. What he needed was Voldemort, Bellatrix, and whoever else had been responsible for this deluge of grief, death and destruction, dead. He got to his feet more gingerly than he would have liked, his jaw clenched, and his breath was coming in short, sharp bursts.

"Ron," Hermione's voice was far more pronounced now. He took in another breath, and turned to face her dirt-encrusted and tear-stained face, a couple of very minor cuts visible, but otherwise healthy.

"You didn't have to leave us," she said, her lip trembling slightly as she looked at the ground, swallowed, then looked back up, her gaze blinding his.

"I need to be alone," he said bitterly to the night, addressing his words to the hole in the wall beside her. She scowled and moved determinedly towards him, pausing hesitantly once she was a foot away from him. Turning to scan the abandoned corridor that in previous years had been the source of so much terror, she finally switched her gaze back to him.

"Seen Harry yet?" she enquired hesitantly. Ron felt a shadow of his old insecurity and bitterness return. _It was always about Harry_.

"No." He let the solitary syllable hover in the air between them, awkwardly, infuriatingly. She peered at him more intently, and he felt a worm of apprehension and fear rise within him. Harry had been with his family the last he'd been aware of. Surely he hadn't….

"He'll be in Dumbledore's Office," he answered almost more to himself, happier that he'd found his voice properly and relieved that his memory was still functioning in this hurricane of pent-up emotions. "Looking at Snape's memories. We should…"

To his surprise, she took hold of his left hand, lacing her fingers with his as she raised a solitary finger from her spare hand to her lips. He squeezed her hand as she led him away, slowly, but with a determined, silent authority nevertheless. They reached the first step of the shattered staircase, and with a sigh, Ron sat himself down, grasping Hermione's hand with a firm grip as he leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. Only then did the tears begin to fall, silently, perspiration leaving tracks in the grime on his face. He heard a sniff from his left as she pulled herself in closer. Abandoning any dignity that remained, he buried his face in her lap, fighting against the howl of misery that was threatening to escape him. He let out another steadying sigh as she began to gingerly thread the fingers of her spare hand through his hair. Time itself appeared to dissolve as both mourned and did their best to comfort the other in total silence.

….

Ginny's heart was pounding as she made her way up the stairs. Too much and too many had been lost. Colin, her former Charms partner, snuffed out in an instant by a Killing Curse meant for Cormac McLaggen. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, who merely hours earlier had never before looked as healthy and whole. Fred, his face still frozen, perhaps poetically, in his final laugh.

Not that there was anything poetic about war and death, Ginny thought savagely. Harry was missing, unable to be found in any of the places she'd thought of searching. And where the devil were Ron and Hermione?

And then she saw them, huddled together at the top of the ruined staircase. _Together._

A weak flame of warmth filled her insides, promptly snuffed out by her number one worry as she rushed her way up the stairs towards them. She lost her footing as she approached the half-way mark, swearing loudly as her backside landed on a broken shard of marble.

The noise saw Ron and Hermione break apart from their silent embrace with a jump.

"Ginny!..." Hermione was the first to recover, wiping her hands on her jeans and hiccupping as she rushed to Ginny's aid. "Are you…"

"Fine as can be," Ginny answered primly, nodding at Ron as she got back to her feet gingerly. She paused to look at her watch, then exclaimed in alarm.

"Listen, we've only got thirty minutes until Voldemort's ultimatum, and Harry's disappeared on us. Have you seen him?" She searched their faces hungrily, desperately, her mind screaming at her that Harry was somewhere safe, that he'd just need a quiet, solitary moment like Ron and Hermione to process the loss….

"He'll be in Dumbledore's Office," she heard Ron reply, with his optimism only slightly dented with a quiver at the end. How foreign the phrase felt to her. _Dumbledore's Office_. After the year of tyranny with Snape in charge.

She froze in horror, her hyper-slow brain finally processing fully the implications of Ron's words. He didn't know. And what he'd said had pierced her like a sliver of ice, because…

"I've checked everywhere," she replied in an unfamiliar, foreign whisper. "He's not there." Her curiosity of why Harry would want to go there specifically was overwhelmed by a surge of panic as she made a decision. To hell with it, she had to check, and perhaps she could do some good in the process, like help Neville, Oliver Wood and others recover people. Not bodies, _people_.

"Where are you going?" she heard the most-surprised Hermione exclaim.

"The grounds," she answered back honestly, her back turned to them. Another panicked thought hit her as she whirled round to face Ron and Hermione.

"It's only…" she checked her watch again, "…Twenty-eight minutes. Stay right there until I get back," she added, with a touch of desperation.

Pausing only to acknowledge Neville at the foot of the staircase as they both peeled off into the darkened grounds in different directions, Ginny felt like a Bludger had hit her in the gut as she passed the prone form of Colin nearby, his mousy hair still waving animatedly in the gentle breeze. Fighting back another lump in her throat, she shook her head and stopped where she was. Her focus was on the living. Her ears were on alert for any sound, whether it be a cough, a moan, or a feeble rustle of the grass caused by movement.

 _Snap._

A branch, invisible in the gloom, splintered with a noticeable crack at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and she dropped to her knee, pointing her wand in the general direction the sound had come from. Not for the first time, she had the feeling she was being watched by multiple sets of hidden eyes. Ginny had (completely involuntarily) explored many mysterious areas of the Castle in her first year, but tangling with the likes of Dementors, Greyback and Acromantula in the gloom was hardly top of her agenda. She'd take facing Voldemort, his pet Basilisk and his Diary again any day over this. Or would she?

Then she heard something else as Hagrid's cabin began to loom in the foreground out of the misty night.

A most faint, pitiful cry for help.

Banishing thoughts about the mysterious noise and of her history with Tom Riddle, she lit her wand, not caring who saw her. They still had time to recover and recue people, though the time for finding Harry was in short supply now. Not to mention the horror Voldemort would unleash within fifteen minutes on Hogwarts' embattled defences. A knot tightened in her stomach at the thought of what would happen to the injured inside the Great Hall once battle resumed.

The she came across the owner of the sound. The victim, clothed in Hogwarts robes, shielded their eyes feebly from the bright light, and Ginny extinguished it as she leaned in closer.

"Mum?" That sound produced more horror in Ginny than any other single event that evening. Tearing her thoughts away from her own mother, presently immobilized with grief in the Great Hall, Ginny knelt down. There were faint whispers from two people from far behind her, but she shut them out.

"No, I'm not your mother," she whispered back, kneeling beside the injured girl and ignoring the cold soak her knees were getting; there was icy dew on the blades of grass, perhaps put there by Dementors. With a dull, detached feeling of surprise, Ginny noticed the silver and emerald colours of Slytherin House.

"I'm so cold…." The girl whimpered; Ginny could see isolated spots of scarlet beside her, but there was no obvious wound visible on her. "Can you feel any pain?" she whispered back in reply.

The girl shook her head; it seemed to take an eternity. She let out a wet, raspy cough. More spots of scarlet stained her dangerously pale, almost blue lips. Ginny felt her throat swell again; it was difficult swallowing as her vision began to blur. She was the farthest thing from a Healer, but even she knew the lack of pain in a case like this was bad news. She turned away to briefly wipe her eyes. The girl didn't need to guess from her behaviour how bad her condition was. If she could even see properly anymore, that was.

"Mum?"

Composing herself, Ginny turned back to face her patient. Her eyes had slipped closed and there was an almost-smile on her face as her fingers blindly reached out for comforting contact.

"No, I'm not your mum," she repeated softly, not entirely succeeding in keeping the wobble out of her voice as she brushed the girl's forehead gently. It felt cold and clammy. The girl opened her eyes again; the blissful look had been replaced with fear and melancholy.

"Don't leave me out here," she pleaded.

"Never. And you'll see your mum very soon. It'll be all over soon." Ginny dabbed at the corner of her eye. Only the last part of that answer she knew to be true, she thought. One way or another, it would _all_ be over.

"It's all right," she added. "It's okay. We're going to get you inside."

"But I want to go _home_ ," the injured girl pleaded, in a whisper so faint that Ginny had to lean in very close to have a hope of hearing it. "I don't want to fight any more!" Ginny appraised her nearly-prone form. She definitely wasn't going to be fighting any more, she mused, as hot tears stung her eyelids.

"I know," she whispered as she took one of the girl's hands into her own and tried to ignore how cold it was. "It's going to be all right," she added, and let the tears fall for not the first time that day, determined to not produce a sob.

As the injured girl slipped towards total unconsciousness, muttering weakly to someone who was not present with them, Ginny heard – or was it felt? – the presence of someone else. There was the faint rustle of leaves from a few metres to her right, and she looked around to find….absolutely nothing.

Apparently.

Then the faint sound of something being dragged over the surface of the grass reached her again. In fact, it sounded for all the world like a certain special someone's infamous invisibility cloak.

"Harry," she whispered to herself; some part of her at the last second prevented her from calling out to him, if that was who the sound had belonged to. Probably, she reasoned, the same part of her that had with a minimum of fuss accepted his decision to end their relationship.

Namely, the part of her (was there any other part?) that was absolutely, blindingly, infuriatingly in love with him.

For whatever reason, he had decided to meet Voldemort, and nothing could change that. Why was another matter. She closed her eyes and threw herself back to the time, aged eleven, where she'd woken in the Chamber from a real-life nightmare that was doomed to be her last, only to be given a second shot at life. Harry had done that back then. He was going to do it all again. For all of them. Then it came to her.

He was going to kill Voldemort. He'd kill Voldemort, just like he'd destroyed the Diary, and it would be all over. She told herself that over and over again as Oliver Wood took the unconscious girl away from her. She told herself that again as she crossed the threshold of the Castle, as she took the stairs two at a time to get back to Hermione and Ron. Even as their remaining time ticked away to zero, she told herself that.

If only she could actually, fully believe with her heart what she was trying to tell herself.

….

"Ron."

He felt her tug on his jacket, but he scowled and launched a more determined effort to rush after Ginny.

"But Ginny's left, and Harry's out there…"

"Ron if you'd just listen…"

To hell with listening. He'd help his sister rescue and recover victims, and then once that was done, he could think about punishment. Of all the cowards that lay in wait for his best friend in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. Just like they'd waited for the perfect moment to blow up that corridor, and sent that wall crashing down on his brother….

The grief had gone, replaced with a scalding fury that was boiling inside him, longing for an exit. What a pathetic bunch the Death Eaters were; why hadn't he seen that before? Cowards, who would wait until dark to launch their attack, and slay schoolchildren without a second thought. All in blind, sniveling obedience to a man who had no concept of reciprocal loyalty, of friendship, of love or loss.

Had no understanding of what living _felt_ like, beyond simply existing as an evil, hollowed out shell of his younger self. He would never understand the love of siblings, of brave parents like Tonks, Lupin, his parents and Harry's. Would never understand the surge of indescribable pain that accompanied a loved one's loss. Would never experience the joy, terror, humour and _exhilaration_ that came from falling in love with your best friend.

Were his implacable rage not coursing through his whole body, he might have had the ability to feel _sorry_ for the pathetic, frightened individual that considered himself a lord above all including Death.

"I won't let you do this, Ron." Her voice was now sharper, more instructive. The pleading had been thrown out the window. At that, he whirled on her.

" _Won't let me_? I'm a free man, Hermione. And I'm going out there." He felt Hermione tug at his sleeve, but this merely served to open the conduit of rage fully as tears poured onto his cheeks once again.

"Fred is dead! My sister could be too in the next few minutes, Harry is out there, probably trying to give himself up to _him_ and you want me to stand here and look cute. DON'T YOU?"

He felt an enormous surge of guilt as he turned to see Hermione's eyes fill with tears again, but it was simply beyond his control to stop now he'd started.

"HOW MANY OTHERS ARE WE GOING TO LOSE? NOT HARRY, IF I CAN HELP IT," he roared, his surprisingly shaky voice echoing like a clap of thunder through the abandoned corridor.

Much to his surprise, Hermione let go as he stomped down a few steps, then turned, his heart pounding away. "Are you coming?" he called out. "Are you coming or are you staying?" In a detached, distant corner of his mind, this reminded him of the day he'd stormed out on Hermione. Except the circumstances involving Harry couldn't be any more different.

But he wasn't prepared for her next words.

"We can't do anything, Ron," she said wanly, her eyes cast down. Ron had never seen her look so utterly defeated in her life, as he felt his anger begin to ebb.

"Of course we can," he retorted. " _Come on_." But Hermione bit her lip, looking pensive.

"Not in terms of killing Voldemort. We need to kill the last Horcrux – the snake - before we can do that. I….I can't stop you," she added as Ron glared at her, giving him an intense look which intimidated him a little, "but if you go on some, s- suicide mission, I'll have no choice but to follow. And no-one else knows about the Horcruxes if we go now."

Ron hadn't even registered that she'd approached him step by step as she took his calloused, bruised hand in hers, and gave it a squeeze. He looked back in horror as he recognised the implications of her words. No way was _she_ dying as well, and certainly not because of his own stubborn actions.

"You're too important for you to do that, Ron," she whispered. "For me, Harry, and Ginny. Your whole family."

After what seemed like an interminable period, Hermione leaned in and gingerly planted a soft kiss on his forehead, lingering on it.

Ron's mind was in overdrive.

Fred was dead.

Hermione was alive.

Harry was probably sacrificing himself to give them more time as they spoke. His best mate, likely dead.

Hermione was alive, and so was Ginny and the rest of his family.

Tonks and Lupin were dead.

Most of his family was unharmed, and so were Neville and Luna.

Hagrid was missing.

Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Slughorn were alive and well.

Lavender was gravely injured.

He, Ginny and Hermione were not.

Harry had left them.

Hermione was right here with him.

He scanned her, marveling that she was still with him after the last few hours. And Malfoy Manor.

 _But it might not be so for much longer_ , said a most unwelcome voice in his brain. He looked at his watch. Here they were, with the seconds to probably the end of their lives whittling away. What a waste….

"Time's up," he muttered in resignation. We'll just have to keep our eyes open, and hope…." As he tailed off, his eyes locked with Hermione's.

In a heartbeat, they lunged for each other, Ron ignoring the pain in his chapped lips, the taste of dirt on hers and the tickle of her skin on his stubble as he kissed Hermione with a desperate intensity he never thought was possible. One hand curved up to cup her cheek while the other slid down to the small of her back, pushing them closer together as he deepened the kiss. Judging from the way Hermione returned each brush of the lips with favour and the way one of her hands got caught in his too-long hair, her mind was thinking along exactly the same lines as his was, holding onto the one constant in their lives at that point of time. Harry was missing, Fred and dozens of others were dead, Voldemort was not yet killable, and they were both there, but had no idea of how long they both had to…..

….

Ginny couldn't believe her eyes as she came to a halt at the foot of the staircase. Her brother, snogging Hermione Granger in a warzone as if his very life depended on it, both their arms wrapped tightly around each other as they leaned from side to side, vainly hoping to press closer together. Yet again, she felt her vision blur. It was so unfair; now they had decided to commit themselves to express their feelings, and with so little time left for most likely any of them too…. She was mightily tempted to simply keep drinking in the scene, even if she that she was intruding on a private moment of intimacy, but business was business.

"Ron?" she began timidly, and both Ron and Hermione split apart, looking from Ginny to each other and turning pink. In spite of the dire situation, Ginny almost felt like laughing, or crying for that matter.

"After all this time?" she whispered. Ron locked eyes with her, and much to her surprise, he didn't blush like a tomato. He merely nodded and smiled in a somewhat bittersweet manner.

Ginny only narrowly avoided abandoning her dignity and wrapping them in a bear-hug as the reason she'd come back popped back into her head.

"Didn't see Harry," she said breathlessly, "but I think he's gone off to face Voldemort."

"Ginny," Hermione began. "I'm so sorry…" But Ginny folded her arms with a scowl.

"He's not dead Hermione," she said sharply. "He can't be. He….he'll have something figured out."

But Hermione shook her head mournfully. "You don't understand, Ginny. To kill Voldemort…you need to kill his snake first." At that, Ginny noticed, Ron had shot Hermione a glare.

"Sorry?" she replied. "To kill the snake….." a thought popped into her head. "Do you mean it's like the Diary?" At that, both Ron and Hermione shot each other guilty glances, but to her surprise, it was Ron who answered her.

"Yes," he said resignedly. "And Harry know that too. He's…."

The voice boomed through the walls of Hogwarts, sending dust pouring from the ceiling above.

" _Harry Potter is dead….."_

At that, Ginny's mind dissolved into a whirlpool of agony, the likes of which she'd never even begun to feel before. It was all over.

….

Ron froze at Voldemort's magically enhanced voice, despair washing over him once more. Harry was dead. The only thing that was left now was to resist, and hope in vain that one of them could get close enough to kill Nagini.

Could Voldemort have been lying to them? As much as he wished it, he knew Harry well enough to know that wasn't the case. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that if Harry had felt the battle was lost, he would sacrifice himself. "For the greater good," he muttered bitterly, kicking a piece of rubble down the stairs with unadulterated fury. The same effing slogan used by Dumbledore and Grindelwald that had caused so much mayhem.

He watched as his sister's face crumpled, then hardened. She spun on her heels and marched determinedly down the stairs, pulling out her wand from a sleeve. It took all his willpower to not surrender his mind to the same burning passions as he made a decision.

"Ginny…" he raced after her, Hermione grabbing his arm as she followed.

"Ginny!" Hermione suddenly let go and charged ahead of him. "Please stop – we can't take him on singlehandedly."

"He's a liar," Ginny spat with utter contempt, her lip trembling as she determinedly refused to face them. "He's _never_ stopped lying."

Ron grabbed his sister's arm as they neared the First Floor, recalling with detached irony that he was now stopping Ginny from making the exact same mistake he'd been about to make. "What good will it do Harry if you throw yourself in front of…"

"He's not dead!" Ginny cried defiantly, whirling around to reveal tears beginning to stream freely. Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. She was inconsolable. They all were.

"Harry wouldn't want this," he said breathlessly.

"… _.The battle is won. You have lost half your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and the Boy Who lived is finished."_

At this, all three looked at each other, then, as one, began slogging their way down towards the survivors in the Great Hall and Entrance Hall, the first blushes of pale pink penetrating the inky darkness outside. Ginny led them, followed by Ron, Hermione pressing herself against his side and wrapping an arm around his shoulders as she buried her head in the side of his neck. He felt oddly numb; it was as if his body needed visual proof that Harry really was gone, even though he knew with a fatalistic certainty it had to be true. Voldemort's voice continued echoing throughout the largely abandoned corridors like that of the monster that had stalked them merely five years previously.

" _Anyone who continues to resist-"_ \- Ron gave Hermione's shoulder an instinctive squeeze – " _man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family."_

Upon seeing Luna and Neville at the foot of the stairs, Ginny launched herself at them with abandon, wrapping them both into a tight embrace. Neville closed his eyes, and Ron could hear him murmur "I'm so sorry." Luna smiled sadly, removed herself from the hug, and stepped in behind Ginny to rub her back tenderly. Neville opened his eyes again and nodded weakly at Ron and Hermione. Tearing his eyes away, Ron noticed with a shock that the Entrance Hall was unexpectedly more crowded than usual, and most had looks of grim determination as they stared out towards the grounds to face the arriving threat. He turned to face Hermione.

"How the-"

"That was Slughorn," came a misleadingly casual Irish lilt. Ron spun to face Seamus, bruised and battered, with one eye almost swollen shut, but otherwise looking attentive. He jogged up the stairs to where he and Hermione were standing, both frozen on the spot and unsure of their next actions.

"He's just brought in reinforcements from Hogsmeade – anyone we can get, really. We're fighting," he said determinedly, clapping Ron on the back. "Neville's agreed, no matter what." Ron nodded mutely as he and Hermione gave each other a raised eyebrow. It was somehow uplifting to know that no matter what would happen in the next few minutes, he and Hermione would not be alone.

"… _kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."_

Neville and Ginny broke their embrace as they both glowered at the magnified voice of Voldemort.

"Like hell," the latter snarled, as Neville waved his hand for Ron, Hermione and Seamus to join the circle.

"Right, he said, drawing a steadying breath. "I've talked to Kingsley and Slughorn, and both said we can fight on, if we are able to. When the timing's _right_ ," he added with a bite to his voice, as he noticed Ron's hand reaching for his jacket pocket. He then looked gloomily at the ground. "I'm sorry…I'm not good at this."

"Give me a break," muttered the gaunt-faced and puffy-eyed Ginny, craning her neck to see if Voldemort and his Death Eaters were arriving, before turning to face Neville, blowing her nose. "You've helped keep as many of us alive as possible, Nev."

"They're coming!" came the voice of Parvati from beside the remains of the main doors. "Looks like it's _him_ and he's got Hagrid."

In spite of everything, Ron felt the coils around his heart loosen ever so slightly. Neville dropped his voice to a whisper. "I saw Harry just beforehand – " he paused to let the collective inhalation of surprise by Ginny, Ron and Hermione fade – "and I told him we'll keep fighting, no matter what." At that, he nodded to Ginny, Ron and Hermione.

"He knew what we'd do. And he also told me to kill Voldemort's snake. We kill it, as it's key to defeating him."

"He knows," whispered Hermione to his left, apparently breathing a sigh of relief. They'd kept the secret of Voldemort's Horcruxes to themselves for too long. With Harry gone, someone else had been given the mantle. And given any one of them could die, it only made sense to tell other people like Luna, Ginny and Seamus what to do as well.

"He's here!" came the voice of Minerva McGonagall. "Anyone who can fight, prepare yourselves and follow me. Anyone who can't, get yourselves inside the Great Hall now! I'll cast a shield if it's necessary."

"Okay," whispered Neville. "Good luck, everyone." With that, they all made their way to the Entrance Courtyard, and Ron's eyes fell immediately upon Voldemort and his repulsive snake, followed by his eyes finding Bellatrix. His hand coiled around his hidden wand as he stared at Voldemort's crazed deputy with pure loathing. When the time came….

But then Ginny made a startled exclamation to his right. "Tell me who Hagrid's carrying," she said to no-one in particular. Trying in vain to peer over Seamus and Neville's shoulders, she cleared her throat. "Neville, who is it?"

Ron's heart ached at the desperate urgency in his sister's voice, put there by neither curse nor physical injury. His hand found Hermione's again as they waited for confirmation.

"NO!" The grief-stricken scream from his former Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor tore at him. And then, with another dull blow to his gut, he saw it for real.

Harry. Eyes closed and limbs flopping uselessly in Hagrid's grasp. He heard Bellatrix let out a triumphant cackle of sadism and felt him lose control of his emotions altogether as his sister let out a sound that he never knew she'd been capable of making.

It really was bizarre. He was shaking uncontrollably, his vision had blurred, and his throat was tearing at him, but everything sounded as if he was blissfully, peacefully underwater. The sound of Hermione's uncontrolled sobbing from beside him echoed distantly, and what must surely have been a roar from the crowd itself was nothing more than a distant rumble.

And here they were. Himself, Ginny, Hermione and dozens of other people, united in the searing grip of collective anguish.

But not yet ready to give up.

 _Author's Note 2: I feel that Bonnie Wright was given a hard time for her portrayal of Ginny (which I feel was Kloves' fault, not the actress's.) However, her performance during the scene where Voldemort gloats about Harry's 'demise' was chillingly realisitc. To this end, I paid tribute to it in this chapter with the insertion of a line from the final film._ _As for Ron's emotional meltdown, it was in part inspired by HalfASlug's portrayal of the character in the fantastic 'Seven Simple Years.' (Go check it out, if you have time!)_

 _Yes, it's been a long chapter, but the next one will be festive and optimisitc with a touch of late Christmas celebrations/commemorations at Godric's Hollow, as well as good news on the marriage front._


	5. Chapter 5: New Beginnings

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! Meant to put this up just after Christmas, but life sometimes gets in the way of one's hobbies. First part has Ron and Ginny meet up late on Christmas Eve night while following Harry and Hermione to the Potters' gravesite, while Ron confesses to leaving Harry and Hermione, and the two siblings bond over their shared exeriences with Horcruxes. The second part involves Ron spilling the beans to Ginny on proposing to Hermione.

PS: I do not own these characters, or for that matter a song by Paul McCartney that briefly makes an appearance.

Chapter 5:

New Beginnings

 _9:_

The eerie silence of the falling snow muffled the sound.

With a quiet _whoomph,_ Ron's feet struck the powdery layer in the middle of the main street of Godric's Hollow. He nodded in satisfaction as he saw two familiar forms a couple of hundred metres ahead of him pass through the kissing gate that lead to the graveyard. That was good, there was just one more to join them….

Sure enough, a sound similar to a small firecracker suddenly erupted from behind his back, telling him that Ginny had arrived as well. He turned as she brushed some snow off her gloves, shivering. "Bloody cold," she muttered. "They're already here?" Ron nodded and gestured his way along towards the cemetery where Hermione had told him to rendezvous by midnight. He looked at his watch. Thirty minutes to midnight – and to Christmas.

The end of an utterly exhausting year was nigh.

Ginny let out a sudden exclamation and Ron whirled round, launching his hand into his jacket pocket where his wand was stored as he turned to face his challenger.

A dilapidated, two-storey house, with almost the entire façade of the upper floor blown away, along with the rafters.

"Ginny! Look," he whispered, pointing to the graffitied sign that had formed in front of them. Covered in luminescent graffiti, some of it from since the defeat of Voldemort, some of it from before then. He smiled as he remembered how touched Harry had been by the supportive messages scrawled there, and also snorted to himself as he recalled Hermione's appalled face as she told him that Harry hadn't realised Godric's Hollow was Godric Gryfifndor's birthplace.

 _On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,_

 _Lily and James Potter lost their lives._

 _Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever_

 _to have survived the Killing Curse._

 _This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left_

 _in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters_

 _And as a reminder of the violence_

 _that tore apart their family._

Of course, Harry had now survived the Killing Curse twice, and he'd well and truly gained a family, but it was still sobering thinking about the what-ifs.

What if Lily and James had brought their young son over to the Burrow? Might he and Ron have become the closest friends anyone could ask for? Would there have been birthday parties to go to, with no need to break Harry out from Privet Drive? Would Harry have had brothers and sisters, some of them with vivid red hair? Would Harry have still gotten together with Ginny? How would his personality have been different without the physical and mental scars of this tragedy?

It hurt the head just thinking about it. But Ron's mind was still in overdrive.

Harry had mentioned visiting Godric's Hollow at the time of Dumbledore's funeral, and had finally done so the previous Christmas. How terribly had he been faring the evening he'd come across the place where his parents had been murdered – where it had all for better or worse had begun - with no-one but a demoralised and heartbroken Hermione to keep him company?

He glanced to his left and saw that Ginny's eyes had narrowed as she surveyed the upper floor of the Potter's house, then at the sign.

"To think that I used to just _stare_ at his scar," she whispered – sounding near tears. "You and I know what it cost him, but…seeing it in person….."

"I know," Ron sighed. He was having a hard time getting out of his head the vivid memory of his bellowing at Harry the night he'd left them.

" _It's all right for you two, isn't it, with your parents safely out of the way-"_

" _My parents are DEAD!"_

Words born out of terror, fatigue, jealousy and frustration, but propelled by a casual cruelty that was so foreign to him, yet so familiar also….

"It was just him and Hermione, wasn't it?" Ginny whispered. "Harry and Hermione both said something about you being sick, splinched and unable to travel…."

Ron's heart skipped a beat as he turned to stare at her guiltily. He'd never broached the subject of what the Locket had done to him except for with Harry, Hermione, and of course, Bill and Fleur. He felt a surge of gratitude for his girlfriend and for his best mate, but he didn't deserve their protection. He was the only one to leave the group.

"Well, I was, in a manner of speaking," he stammered. Ginny's face contracted into a scowl. "What's that supposed to mean?" she queried, suspicion lacing every syllable.

Suspicion and terror.

"I broke my promise to you," he muttered to the ground, kicking up snow with a furious abandon.

"What happened to you?"

He froze in shock as sheer, blinding relief swept through him. Of course Ginny would understand. Her tone, contrary to his fears, wasn't accusatory.

"I had a row. With Harry. And, I guess Hermione too. I….I stormed out on them." The burning sensation at the back of his throat, kept at bay since the day of Fred's funeral, was returning with a vengeance. He shivered and turned away, closing his eyes. He did not want to see Ginny's reaction.

"Look at me." Her voice was surprisingly small and mild.

He did not move.

"Look at me, Ron."

Reluctantly, Ron turned back to face her, surreptitiously wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

Her face was ashen, but also lined and determined.

"Please tell me that there was more to this than just coldness and exasperation."

"How do you mean?"

"Oh, you know, aside from a splinching injury, fatigue, fear, misplaced jealousy, lack of sleep, sexual frustration…."

"Hold it right there," Ron interrupted, his ears beginning to burn despite the serious situation and the cold.

"I mean Voldemort, for pity's sake," Ginny shot back, stamping her foot exasperatedly. "What did _he_ do?"

In the end, it was just easier to tell her all about it. How it had amplified every negative trait, memory or fear that was already in his head. The jealousy about being the 'least-loved' sibling. How Ginny had gotten her dinner first when they were little, and how he wasn't nearly as talented and popular as the Twins. Or as cool as Bill. How Hermione had, he'd feared, been preferring time with Harry instead of him. And naturally, fear for his entire family's safety, including of course Ginny. How, in the days before he'd left, an ominous voice had begun interrupting his dreams. Murmurings of how Harry and Hermione were hooking up as he slept. How unloved and alone he was. How the only thing that mattered was power. Most ominously, the voice inside him that was ringing in his ears, encouraging him to teach Harry a lesson once and for all as both he and Harry had whirled their wands on each other in the heat of the moment.

…..

"So you mean to say," Ginny interrupted some time later, "you ran into a Dark object, a portion of his soul, and _just carried it round on your person? Haven't you learned anything?"_

"Do you mean-" Ron began.

"From me!" Ginny exclaimed, grabbing a handful of snow, and with furious precision hitting Ron full in the face. "I could have warned you!"

"But it got to me first. I nearly _cursed_ Harry…."

"Because it fed on all your insecurities, Ron. You thought that they were shutting you out, but maybe you were steadily removing yourself from their midst without realizing it because of the Locket. That was what the Diary did to me. Make no mistake, Hermione tells me that she even began to pack one night she was on watch before she took the damn thing off in time."

"But that was after I'd hurt them by leaving!"

"No. Beforehand."

Ron whistled as Ginny slid her hand out to enclose his. As one, they stared at the ruined house, Ron musing to himself at his and Harry's potential fates if Hermione had left them in the lurch.

"You've been beating yourself up over what you did for a whole year, Ron," she said softly. "Hermione's forgiven you, and funnily enough, Harry's still grateful for you pulling him out of that frozen pond. They never would have lied for you to me about it if they hadn't exonerated you. Let it go."

They smiled at each other, then Ginny cleared her throat while letting go of Ron's hand.

"You need to talk to Percy about this," she added. "You saw how he was last week back at the Burrow. Every morning, he wakes up and blames himself for Fred's death."

"But…that's ridiculous!" Ron spluttered. "He wasn't responsible for…."

"But he did leave us in the lurch during a war," Ginny pointed out. "He's still struggling with his guilt over that, too. Just like you."

He shivered as he looked down the street towards the graveyard and war memorial.

"Why didn't Hermione tell me?"

"She thought you'd be ashamed of her."

"Why?" Ron shot back. "I was the only one who actually followed through on those impulses." Ginny gave him a pitying glance.

"Please tell me that one day you two are actually going to act like a couple and actually communicate properly on these matters. You two both deserve each other – you're too stubborn for your own bloody good."

Ron laughed as he wiped his face free of snowflakes as they approached the war memorial. He swallowed as he passed the dilapidated, half-wrecked house that had once belonged to Bathilda Bagshot; the damage put there by Hermione's blasting curse. Even though Bathilda's remains had been long since removed, it was sickening to realise what events had occurred in that house.

"So you returned," Ginny whispered beside him. "That's what matters."

Ron smiled to himself and continued on, the memory of his use of the Deluminator warming his insides.

"Returned to them with a bit of help from Dumbledore," he added, raising the miniscule object he'd been carrying for the whole of the day. It somehow felt appropriate, almost exactly a year on…

"Did he gift that to you?" Ginny queried, eyeing the object with fascination. "How did it guide you to them?"

Ron smirked as he turned to face her. "That, sis, is a fascinating story…..for another time."

She scowled at him but declined to press him further.

"I know it's about Hermione. Not sure I want to press for details, actually. At least it's better than Harry and Hermione. Seriously, Ron, did you see how hopeless Harry was during our last few practices in Sixth Year? He's as subtle as Grawp if he's interested in someone."

"Well, no," Ron admitted. "My mind was…..elsewhere at the time."

"Fair enough," grinned Ginny, turning her eyes to the memorial. Her grin faded as it began to morph from a granite obelisk into three human-like forms. For the first time, Ron saw Harry's face carved into stone; this had to be James Potter. Beside him was Lily, kind-faced and beautiful even in statue form. In her arms lay the infant Harry, with no scar yet engraved on his forehead. So much joy and innocence…..the sort that Harry until very recently had never known.

"How old were they?" Ginny whispered. "Early twenties, weren't they?"

"Twenty-one," Ron breathed. "They were so young, fighting in the Order…."

"Like we were any different," replied Ginny. "We've fought a lifetime of battles and we're not even twenty."

After a few minutes of silent reflection, Ginny tugged on Ron's arm and they made their way towards the kissing gate entrance.

The lights in the nearby church were still on; and Ron heard snatches of the bars of _Angels We Have Heard On High_. How must have Harry and Hermione felt on this spot a year ago, hearing the sounds of celebrating new life and new hope for the first time in months, when doom and gloom was surrounding them?

Tiptoeing past some of the graves (Ron briefly paused when he saw a familiar surname such as 'Abbott,' 'Peverell' and 'Dumbledore,') he came to the spot where Harry and Hermione were. Harry was crouching in front of the grave while Hermione held back slightly.

"It's funny," Ginny remarked in the quietest whisper from behind him. "All those years ago, I absolutely _knew_ I was alone, during my time with the Diary."

"You never were," he replied. "We didn't know it at the time, but we never were."

"Exactly," smiled Ginny, squeezing his arm.

At the sound of the muffled conversation, Harry sniffed slightly, wiped his nose, and got to his feet, his face breaking into a wide smile.

"Welcome to where I was born," he whispered.

"What, in the middle of a church graveyard on Christmas Eve?" Ginny shot back. "Skip the theatrics, Potter." Ron, Hermione and Harry let out a snort, all of them sobering as Hermione leaned forwards and with a gentle, elegant wave, a wreath of Christmas roses blossomed out of mid-air.

"Here's to tradition," Harry whispered as he caught them and gently arranged them on his parents' gravesite. He once more got to his feet and hugged Ron firmly; Ron suddenly felt his eyes water, and he knew that from the lingering contact, Harry felt that gravity of this Christmas Eve every bit as much as he did. Harry then turned to Ginny as Ron greeted his girlfriend (even thinking of that phrase still made his heart skip a beat) with a quick peck on the cheek.

"I'm glad I returned as myself this time," Harry said quietly, scanning the graveyard. "It just didn't feel right the other time, did it, Hermione?"

Hermione let out a soft chuckle. "No offence Harry, but I didn't exactly fancy being your wife for the evening." At that, Ginny dug her elbow into Ron's stomach and wriggled her eyebrows triumphantly in an I-told-you-so manner. "Shut it," he mouthed at her, but she now only had eyes for Harry, who had turned to face her.

"Fair point," Harry added. "I wasn't exactly handsome that evening."

"No doubt about it," teased Ginny. "I'm sure you looked suitably hideous for the occasion."

Harry shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and went forward for a kiss.

"Do I have to see this?" Ron complained, jumping as he was hit with a snowball by Hermione.

"Children, children," Ginny admonished, breaking away from Harry's embrace. "Not here. Anyone fancy eggnog at the Burrow?" she added, as her stomach let out a loud rumble resembling that of Ron's.

"Sounds good," beamed Hermione, linking her arms with Harry and Ron, Ginny joining in on Harry's end. As one, they made their way towards the cemetery entrance as a clock began to chime midnight.

"I'm sorry I wasn't with you two," whispered Ron. "I know I've said it before, but…"

"I'm not," Harry shot back. "Hermione had such difficulty rescuing me, I think maybe saving two people was beyond even her. Am I right, Hermione?"

"Probably," admitted Hermione to the night. "You didn't miss out on much, Ron, rest assured."

They entered onto the main street. As the looked up and down it, a burst of noise emanated from the pub as several stragglers emerged, singing their own discordant carols. Ron could make out some of the lyrics of the carol the pub was playing.

 _The mood is right_

 _The spirit's up_

 _We're here tonight_

 _And that's enough_

 _Simply having a wonderful Christmastime._

 _Simply having a wonderful Christmastime._

"Amen to that," nodded Ginny in satisfaction. "Where do we want to go?"

"Just behind this tree should be enough," whispered Hermione, darting behind it with the other three. Making sure that no doors or windows on the main street remained open, they once more linked arms.

With a muffled whump, the four vanished.

 _10:_

Ginny had just started to busy herself for bed, pouring out a final cup of steaming tea, grimacing slightly at a brief sharp pain in her stomach, when vivid green flames erupted in the fireplace.

"Ron?" she queried as her ashen-faced brother wiped his sooty hands on his robes. He looked quite animated by something, but he was clearly having trouble processing the words for them.

Deciding the best course of action was to steer him to the sofa, she leaned forward.

"So what happened?" she asked, her curiosity heightened b his bizarre behaviour. "Something involving Hermione?"

Ron nodded as Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"What exactly _did_ Hermione do to you the other night?" she added, amusement softly entering her voice.

Ron swallowed then finally found his words.

"IjustproposedtoHermioneontopofStoatshedHill, andshesaidyes."

"Slowly, Ronald, slowly," Ginny chided gently. "Last night you….oh!"

Ron let out a sigh, seemingly calming down. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah, it's official."

Ginny let out a squeak that was most unlike her and effectively tackled Ron.

"Geroffme!" he protested, and Ginny did so, vainly attempting to contain her enthusiasm.

"Ron….that's wonderful," she finally managed, gasping again as another wave of pain radiated from her stomach.

"Ginny…" Ron had noticed. "What happened? Are you, you know…."

"No, we're not expecting, yet," Ginny laughed. "Just a Bludger injury. And speaking for expecting….Merlin knows how I'll cope should you have kids. Bickering like mad, smart as their mother, and with an endless supply of swearwords."

"That's what Harry said already," Ron sighed. "Not that you're one to talk, Gin."

"Forget it. When's Hermione coming over?"

"She needed to be in bed early for a Wizengamot case tomorrow morning on the territory rights of the Hogwarts Centaurs," Ron yawned.

"So how did you propose?" Ginny asked.

"With a fake Galleon," Ron replied, his pride in pulling it off blindingly obvious. "George's idea. With his help, it transforms into a ring the moment the girl you're proposing to touches it. Cool no?"

"Excellent idea, Ron," she grinned. "Make sure you slip one into Harry's pocket someday. It'll be amusing to see him have to suddenly propose _again_ on the spot if I 'inadvertently' touch it."

Ron chuckled as she continued.

"So, I know that proposals often revolve around the time you first met or fell in love. Did you invite Krum along?"

"Shut it," Ron growled, his ears burning incandescent.

"Or did you just…I dunno, rub dirt on your nose or something?"

"What….how do you know…"

"Hermione told me that was her first proper memory of you. An obnoxious little git, stuffing sweets into his mouth, and with dirt on your nose. _Just there,_ " she mimicked.

"Bugger off," Ron muttered, his entire face now burning. "I didn't do that, for the record. I'll remember to ensure she doesn't hang out with you as much. Sisters corrupting girlfriends and all that."

"Oh no," Ginny remarked. "Sisters corrupting _fiancées_. Get it right, ickle Ronniekins."

"So when's Harry getting back?" interrupted Ron. Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "He's usually a late worker. How about a toast or six in the meantime?" she suggested, whirling her wand and Summoning two glasses of Ogden's Firewhisky.

"Excellent idea."

"Just remember," she chuckled, "I'm going soft on you. Compared to tonight and at Harry's and my engagement, you're going to have the mother of all hangovers at the end of your engagement party."

"Are you ever going to change?" Ron complained, downing his first sip. Ginny mock-considered him for a moment.

"Let me see….no. You won't either, so we're even."

"Fair enough," chuckled Ron, holding his glass aloft. "To us."

"I'll drink to that."

 _Such was the Weasley way._


End file.
